


The Madcap Underground

by theawkwardterrier (fluffernutter8)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6833959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffernutter8/pseuds/theawkwardterrier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not quite the normal subway ride Steve was expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Madcap Underground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joyfulnerd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joyfulnerd/gifts).



> Written for a prompt on tumblr: meeting on a train ride au.

Steve hates traveling in uniform. It makes people come up to him and thank him for his service with such sincerity that he feels hopelessly external. A few times people have yelled at him, called him a tool, a government lackey, and he wants to spit back at them, asking if they’ve ever given their last bottle of water to a grasping, bright-eyed child, or tried to hold a friend’s guts inside. The only thing he doesn’t mind is when vets- from his war, from others- nod at him, but sometimes there’s hatred in their eyes too for what he makes them remember.

The uniform helps, though, when he hears shouting from the next car. Not because it makes people unconsciously look to him to take control, but because they are willing to move out of the way when he tries.

The disturbance is at the far end. Steve moves carefully, trying to assess and also not hit anyone in the crowded car with his pack. Thing hurts like hell if you take it to the face.

It’s two men facing off, one in a flat beige cap with a ponytail slinking out, the other in an ugly windbreaker in Jets green. They’re both gray-haired. Somehow it makes it worse that they’re old. Watching them circle each other, yelling, is embarrassing, and Steve winces thinking about coming over to break them up. Someone has to, though, so he asks a woman with a stroller if she’ll watch his pack, waiting for her to smile and nod before he moves away. But before he can turn back to the fight, another voice, calm and draped with an accent, cuts through the yelling: “What’s all this?”

Dark curls, purple blouse, neatly matching nails. She’s very still, standing with a cocked head. Steve’s face freezes, which is good because otherwise he’d have an open jaw.

“None of ya business,” Jets Jacket spits.

“I’m afraid you’ve made it all of our business,” she says, picking her way around someone’s cello case to move closer to the two of them.

He sneers. “We’re just having a conversation. No reason for a nosy bitch to get involved.” He reaches toward her, seeming ready to push her away. There is a frozen second where the only sounds are the scrape and spark of the subway. Steve steps forward, ready to say it’s enough. Before he can get there, Jets Jacket is on the floor, arm twisted up, the toe of a high heel pressed lightly against his shoulder.

Steve sees the shock turn to delighted spite on Beige Cap’s face. He puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head at the man when he turns.

Jets Jacket is spitting out a stream of begging mixed with counterintuitive insults. The woman just looks bored until the doors open at the next stop, at which point she half hefts, half drags him out onto the platform. Steve pushes Beige Cap forward. Jets Jacket is picking himself up, stormy faced, so Beige Cap looks a little anxious at having to join him outside. Lifting an eyebrow, Steve presses his shoulder again, and he reluctantly steps out. The doors close behind him.

Steve lets out a short breath and goes over to pick up his pack. He smiles again at the woman he left it with, taking a minute to say hello to her baby as well. He doesn’t get too close; even when he was small he was awkward with kids, and after all the medication and strength training he sometimes feels like he’s so enormous he might scare them.

He’s going to dig out the paperback he was reading before all this started when he hears high heels behind him. He fumbles with the book, wincing internally. “That was excellent work, Captain…?” He stands fully and she reads the tag on his right breast. “Captain Rogers,” she finishes, and smiles.

“Steve,” says Steve quickly. The word comes out with croaky angles. “Please call me Steve.” He thinks it might sound a little like begging.

“Peggy Carter,” she says, holding out a hand. “I appreciated the help.”

“Didn’t look like you needed it,” he returns, putting his hand in hers.

“All the same.” The train reaches the next stop and they move apart to let the crowd shift around them. “Where are you stationed?” Peggy asks once the doors have closed again.

“Just upstate,” Steve says, the standard answer.

“Fort Drum?” Steve nods, too quickly. Her eyes narrow, but then she shakes her head. She leans in close, speaking quietly. “I really thought one of you Special Services boys would be a better liar.”

Steve straightens, forgetting his nerves. “What do you mean?”

“It’s alright.” Peggy pulls out a badge and flashes it at him. “I’m with the UN Office of Peacekeeping Operations. Your state secrets are safe.”

“Thank God. I’d never hear the end of it from the guys if I got us into an international incident on the 2 train just because a beautiful woman was asking me questions.”

Peggy’s smile widens, a scarlet slide, as she watches him blush before asking, as if he hadn’t said anything, “Are you on leave, then?”

He rubs at his forehead, forcing himself to _speak normally damnit_. “Yeah. I’m heading home to Brooklyn.”

“You might have avoided awkward questions by looking like a civilian.” The way she says it lacks judgement, but he can tell just from the question that she likely knows US army regulations better than he does.

“I didn’t have time to change. My best friend and his family are throwing me a welcome home dinner that I’m already-” He looks at his watch and quirks his mouth ruefully. “Twelve minutes late for.”

“I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”

“Nah, Bucky’s ma is a stickler for punctuality. She’ll lay into me as soon as I get in the door and Bucky will be over her shoulder laughing his ass off.”

“I suppose it’s nice to be treated like family.”

Their eyes lock, and he thinks he sees something there, a drifting kinship. “It is,” he says truthfully. “But when she’s pissed, it would be nice to be a guest.”

“Maybe there will be other guests around to ward her off.” Her tone remains easy and unremarkable, but still…

He looks at her. Might as well go all in. “Do you want to come with me? If you don’t have somewhere else to be. They always have too much at these things and it would be nice to- if you came with me. I’d like it. Please.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” she says, smile settling back on her face. She touches his arm. “Although if we’re already going to be late, perhaps we should pick up something for dessert. To soften the blow, so to speak.”

Steve shakes his head. “No way something from a bakery gets through the door.”

“It seems impolite to come late and uninvited without a gift.”

“Just teach Buck how to do that move you did with Jets Jacket back there,” Steve says as they pull into the stop. “That’ll be enough for him.” And taking her hand in his, they step off the train.


End file.
